


we could laugh about it all tomorrow, couldn't we?

by pastel_x_tea



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: (I suppose this counts as whump), Accidental Death, Angst, Gen, Groundhog Day, Gun Violence, Knives, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, Time Loop, Whump, not za//dr, the fifth zim: I EXPLODED!, the first four zims: cause life is short but death is super long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-05 22:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_x_tea/pseuds/pastel_x_tea
Summary: Time loops are an anomaly beyond human understanding. Luckily for the two of us, I'm not human.





	we could laugh about it all tomorrow, couldn't we?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kawaii_Kitty360](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaii_Kitty360/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dib's Horrible Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654714) by [Kawaii_Kitty360](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaii_Kitty360/pseuds/Kawaii_Kitty360). 

> i be like *ignores all my wips to do something based on another story cause I got inspired*
> 
> I highly suggest you read the work linked here (Dib's Horrible Day) because this fic won't make sense without it! And also because it's an absolutely outstanding fic. Also, I wrote this fic after Chapter 5 was published and without consulting the original author on the plot, so it may not line up with future chapters or the overall canon of the story. That being said, I hope you guys like this! It really motivated me to write more and has been one of my most involved projects in a while.
> 
> If more severe gore bothers you, please skip from "I know." to "But forever can't always last."

Does Dib really think I don’t remember?

I’ve always thought that having the human smeets sit around in a smelly room all day to “learn” was ineffective. And yet, I still show up each day, though my initial thirst for Earth knowledge has been sated. Perhaps it is purely out of habit by this point.

Leave home, come to skool, fight Dib after skool, return home, and begin again the next day. Skool, fights, home. Skool, fights, home. Irkens are comfortable with routine and repetition. Which is why it was reasonable to assume that this day, I would fall into the same boring pattern as every other day I’d been on this drab planet.

Skool. Fights. Home. But Earth is nothing if not a planet of spontaneity.

* * *

The first two times, I arrived at the hill as I would have on any other night, my PAK taking on the grueling task of ascension for me as I scanned for signs of danger... or signs of_ Dib_. I watched the buildings of the city get smaller and smaller, shrinking in perspective to the point where it almost seemed you could hold one in your hand, like one of the miniature toys the human smeets doted over. I lingered on this thought for a while, imagining grabbing one of the tiny skyscrapers between my fingers, tilting it side to side as I held it to my eye, watching the shrunken humans scurry back and forth inside.

As the cusp of the hill (and that terrible swoop of jet black hair) came closer into view, the buildings vanished beyond the limits of my natural vision. Isolated from all other human life, save that persistent pest who awaited me, I felt alone under the endless sky. This comforted me. It reminded me of home, this lonely feeling, the feeling that you were only one infinitesimally small cog in a massive moving unit, easily replaceable, insignificant and unnoticeable in the sheer scale of the universe. Of course, as most everything does, it also made me think about the eventual outcome of my mission. I pictured myself on this very hill, looking down upon a conquered Urth, rid of the parasitic primates that currently infested it. Blissfully, chaotically alone.

I suppose I’ve given up on that vision now.

It’s strange. Despite having experienced it twice, I hardly remember anything about my conversation with the Dib. Perhaps this is due to the blood loss, or perhaps it’s because any conversation I’d ever had with Dib, even on the most average of days, melded into one cacophonous cry of “You won’t get away with this!” in my mind (it got boring, really). It wasn’t important. What was important was the way his sentence was cut off by the bang. His face went through the entire range of human emotions all at once, like a wavelength of light rushing from red to violet. Had I not been dying, I would’ve found it utterly fascinating.

I had always wanted him to choke on his insults, but never like this.

Both times, I sunk into his arms as I rapidly lost control of my body. I had known survival was a hopeless fantasy the moment my body registered the hit. Though Irken technology is vastly superior to any other, my PAK could only heal so much physical damage, and this far exceeded that threshold. My brain fell apart as quickly as my body did, neurons firing rapidly in an attempt to make sense of its own impending doom. I’d been close to Irken death before. I’d seen my fellow Irken fall to the enemy numerous times, energy fading as they lost their grasp on what was happening around them, descending into delirium. Most of the fallen became nothing but a footnote in the empire’s history, a few points of data in the vast and superior knowledge of the control brains. But no amount of outside observation could adequately prepare you to experience it yourself.

The first two times that I died, it was terrifying.

And then I came to.

* * *

The first time, I chalked the whole thing up to a mere sleep illusion. Though I didn’t partake often, I’d found that the Urth-typical rest ritual involved periods of vivid hallucination- and my drool-covered notes seemed to indicate I’d fallen into a deep enough slumber to allow this. Besides, nothing- and most certainly no inferior human weapon- could kill an Irken.

Right?

In hindsight, I should have seen that the “next” day after that “dream” was an exact repeat of the one that came before it, but Urth days _always_ followed the same routine. Gir watched the same saccharine drivel on the television, the walk to skool followed its same planned concrete path, the cafeteria served its same poisonous gloop, and our freshly completed busy work was met with more assigned labor in turn. Though Urth was at its core a planet of unbridled chance and spontaneity, skool locked its inhabitants into a monotonous forward march towards the workforce of drones. No matter- I would sit through any number of these information pummeling sessions. It was the nighttime that most engaged me, after all.

It was only at night that I could battle my rival in our shared sanctuary above the city. He was the only inhabitant of this paradoxically boring planet fit to rival my incredible genius, but this night, we were both nothing but fools. He was foolish to return that night, to once again subject himself to the graphic realities of my destruction, and I was equally foolish for not heeding his uncharacteristic pleas to return home. Ignorance killed me the first night, but it was _willful_ ignorance that doomed me on the second.

And when I awoke, I knew I could no longer be so dense. I no longer had the chance.

* * *

I now noticed the repetition of the day- each student wore the same outfit, said the same things, and did the same work as the day before. Everything stayed the same, save for Dib and I. He was at skool, exactly as he’d been the day prior, but he was... wrong. He looked different. Uglier than usual. He was pale, his hands shaky, and his hair appendage drooping uncharacteristically down the back of his still-massive head. Nonetheless, a typical maniacal greeting was in order. I intended to continue this day as normal, even if Dib couldn’t keep up.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the _Dib_.”

And for the second time in his life, he was happy to see me.

By lunchtime, I knew what was wrong. “Zim, listen,” he pathetically begged. He was far too close to me for comfort, and his breath smelled of digestive acid. “We can’t go to the hill tonight.” The implication of his words hit me in the squeedlyspooch with tremendous force. _He doesn’t think I know_. I couldn’t even derive any pleasure from watching him squirm. This was just… _sad_. His eyes were sunken into his face and ringed like a raccoon desperately digging through the garbage. He wouldn’t be at the hill tonight. He’d finally learned his lesson.

“Of course I _won’t_ go to the _hill_ tonight. You can _trust_ me,” I teased, punctuating each word with a wink. I knew that he wouldn’t be swayed by my ribbing; it only served to alleviate the ache spreading through my chest. I’d never lied to Dib, I could tell myself. I’d made it clear I was going to the hill that night, of my own accord, against his wishes. That was enough for me, right?

I don’t want to die. I never have. Even now, in the face of inevitable death, a death I was facing willingly, face bared, arms spread… I don’t _want _this. There were simply unavoidable facts that came with this day. Ms. Bitters would teach mitosis. We’d be served beans and chicken in the cafeteria. And I would die.

That night, for the third time, I climbed the hill. When I reached the peak, Dib was nowhere to be seen. I stood still above the city, looking down at the miniature buildings as birds and insects flitted through the trees. It was a wonderfully still, quiet world I’d found myself in, my body overcome with the unfamiliar feelings of peace and resignation. I simply waited. And waited. And waited. For a gunshot that was guaranteed, and a Dib that never arrived. When the bullet blasted into my body, the pain was no longer foreign. That bullet and I had grown quite acquainted over the past three days. I sunk to my knees as the blood blossomed against my tunic, biting my lip and staring up at the stars. So alone in this universe, its uncaring pinpricks of light staring down at my dying body with indifference. No doubt, GIR had already received the involuntary distress call my PAK gave off. Who knew what his reaction would be when I didn’t come home? Didn’t matter. Not like I’d be around to see it anyway. Satisfied in my insignificance, my eyes fluttered shut, enveloping my vision in endless black.

Until I woke up.

* * *

Dib sobbed openly that morning. I’d seen him choke back a sniffle now and then, even before this horrible time loop, but this was the only time I had seen him _sob_. It was actually intriguing, the way his face grotesquely contorted to accommodate the flood of tears, his stuttering breathing, a shameless show of vulnerability and pain unlike any he’d allowed me to see before. When he embraced me once more, his tears scorched my skin. For a moment, I thought that perhaps this was how I’d die today, the two of us melting into the floor together. But I acted normal. Proud, self-centered, and disgusted. If he knew I knew, I felt it would only hurt him more.

Getting shot in the stomach, while comforting in its conventionality, was getting boring. So when Dib extended the invitation to go to the park, I accepted. I typically found “parks” to be human- and mutt-infested Petri dishes of germs and doom (the bad kind of doom), but perhaps it would be a different experience late at night, side by side with him. And for the time, it was. The vacant swings creaked on their rusty chains, blown by the wind that carried the leaves off the trees and into the eager hands of my robot servant. As Dib sputtered on about bears, I swung my dangling legs back and forth idly. I really was short.

“Hey!”

The hooded man pulled his switchblade from his pocket before either of us could respond to his call. All of my programming screamed ‘danger’ as I leapt to my feet to challenge his Earth weapon.

“You pathetic worm-baby,” I spat, playing my character well. “You think that little knife can hurt Zim?!” The Zim I was knew, despite the superiority of the Irken race, that many things could indeed hurt Zim. But the Zim that Dib knew didn’t, and that was who I had to be. For the boy’s sake.

“Relax.” I felt Dib’s cold hand grab the back of my tunic, pulling me back from the altercation. “I’ll give you my wallet.”

The glint of the switchblade was still catching my eye, the serrated edge glimmering in the moonlight. Its gleam provoked an interesting thought. In the Irken empire, if an enemy surrendered, they were no longer considered a threat. Invasion continued, sure, but the menace of possible annihilation no longer hovered over their head. With this theft-human though, even as Dib gave him exactly what he wanted, he still waged war. He kept his weapon grasped firmly in his white-knuckled fist, ready to strike at any moment like a cobra poised for attack. Humans didn’t care for the rules of battle. Humans killed for sport. I would die as many times as I needed to, but Dib didn’t need to know what it meant to die. Not tonight. Not in this loop. Not ever.

I launched myself upward, pulling away from Dib’s grasp before he could react. For the briefest of moments, I felt the knife spear through my heart, piercing right through the soft organ and protruding into my PAK on the other side, and that was that. It wasn’t like a bullet, blunt and slow in its destruction. Knives didn’t allow time to say goodbye. I was dead before I hit the ground.

Sorry, Dib.

* * *

On the fifth day, when I once again found myself awake and alive, I did all that I could. I pulled Gir’s breakfast waffles from the toaster with the tined end of the metal fork and indulged him in eating the strange concoction he had made for me in return. I forwent a coat and umbrella and took a new path to school, past the house with the vile unchained dogs and across the eight-laned highway without looking twice. I arrived at class winded, singed, and bitten, but very much alive. And Dib hardly noticed. He seemed… happy.

Despite my four deaths, despite the jeers of the other students, despite getting socked in the gut, Dib was… _happy_. He answered the questions in class with an unprecedented zeal, initiated conversations with the hoomans and I, and ran home with a skip in his step. Maybe he’d finally given up. Maybe he’d finally learned.

I walked home. Slowly. Across eight lanes of traffic.

I could find no more ways to achieve this new mission of mine at my house. I’d even left the spoon in Gir’s favorite disgusting microwaveable “Spaghetti-Os” when I prepared it, and only succeeded in breaking my microwave. Very well. Not like I’d be needing it. As Gir scarfed down his tiny circular treats, I sat and watched television with him, gently petting his head. I got no enjoyment from his program of choice- Bloopsy Schmoops, or whatever it was- but it made him happy when I sat with him and pretended. No matter what came next, spending my last hours in peace with Gir wouldn’t be too bad at all.

_Clunk_.

Shit.

I dug my claws into the couch cushion in frustration. Humans can’t learn, humans _never _learn.

“Computer,” I beckoned from the couch. “Turn off the genetic tracking on the main security laser. Leave genetic recognition enabled."

“Are you sure?” The automatic warning cautioned emotionlessly, unlike my typical computer, who would’ve called me an idiot. “Disabling genetic tracking greatly increases the probability of friendly fire and injury to Irken personne-“

“DO NOT QUESTION ZIM!” And with an unceremonious blip, the computer obeyed. The window in the kitchen clicked open almost inaudibly, and two sneakers began to pad their way to my living room, where I kept up my clueless masquerade. Right on time.

“ALERT.” I pretended to jump, but it all looked the same to Dib, who was much more focused on the recoded laser dropping from its ceiling panel. “SUCCESSFUL READINGS OF BANNED DNA CODE.” I leapt up on my PAK legs and scurried into the kitchen, a grin spreading across my face. Here we go again, Dib. One last time.

“DESTROYING THREAT.”

He ducked, and I leapt into the path of the laser. It whirred between my antennae, hitting the wall and bouncing in an unpredictable direction. Dib ducked out of its way again, and I tried to follow it. Duck and leap, duck and leap, as if this were some juvenile playground game. Dib hoisted my PAK leg up into the laser’s course and sent it ricocheting in a new pattern. As I struggled to teeter on what remained of my artificial limbs, Dib grabbed my tunic and pulled me close to his chest. Pressed close to his fast-beating heart, I watched as the laser continued to bounce around us. He hunched his ginormous head over mine, dragging me towards the living room, the holes in his coat still smoking. He was so… sickeningly self-sacrificial. Any other time, I’d be honored, even a bit impressed, but… no. No. _No_!

I elbowed him swiftly in the gut, knocking him backwards into the living room. “Never do that again, you smelly Earth-boy! You were trying to kill Zim!”

“I was not! I was trying to save y-“

I know.

The laser burned through my head, a pain so strong that I couldn’t even make a sound. I couldn’t move my mouth to speak if I’d wanted to, as my jaw hung from my skull by a few exposed tendons. My vision clouded, everything a pink blur as my tender flesh crawled down my face and hit the floor around me. Everything around me was suddenly soaked in blood, an all-consuming warmth that seeped down my body and splattered on the ground, droplets coating the walls and the ceiling. My lungs pulled in one involuntary, futile breath, the signature rattle of death emanating from my obliterated esophagus as my antennae spasmed, senses overwhelmed. As I sunk, I seemed to fall forever.

But forever can’t always last. At least, I hope not.

* * *

Today is the dawn of the sixth day. I sit in front of my drool-covered notes, my computer’s alarm beckoning me to get ready for the same day of skool. My hands shake as my brain blinks random emotions through its neurons in an attempt to make sense of this cruel game the universe is playing. Fear. Sadness. Desperation. _Fury_.

Fury at Dib. Dib. _Dib_. It’s been five days together, the leads in this hopelessly repeating play, both of us searching desperately for the “right” ending to satisfy the universe. To return things to the way they were, or the way they were supposed to be. I don’t blame you for trying. But after five days of torturing yourself, of tearing your body and mind apart to the same end, why are you still here? I suppose you’ve never been one to give up on a mission, stubborn and formidable as you are, the cockroach I’ve been unable to shake. Through everything, I have been bound to you, and you to me.

I don’t care how smart you are, how many times you ruined my plans before. You will never outsmart the universe. No hand, human or otherwise, can divert the sequence of events it has dictated. I will win. I will _always _win. I will always outsmart you, because I know something you don’t know, something you refuse to accept.

Don’t you see, Dib?

The loop only ends when you let me go.


End file.
